cliffs-of-remembrance

[cliffs-of-remembrance]

"I'm 24 and I moved 3707,9 kilometers away from the ones who hurt me - I thought that somehow, escaping would save me from that everlasting sadness, yet today it seems like I have brought it with me - like a curse, silently hiding in my luggage of hopes and dreams."

- extract from an original reflection, "frustration", late 2021

[cliffs-of-remembrance]

Goodbye, dear Home of my heart. - early 2023

For the last time I lean against the rusty handrails of your rooftop.

As I look down to our old terrace - like one of those seagulls I had always dreamed of being - the sun warms my shoulders and life flashes before my eyes.

I sense the despicable time that destroyed, disunited and dissolved every bond, eroding everything around us and even the stones themselves.

I see the garden where me and my father used to play, and notice how not even the clovers grow the way they used to.

I remember waking up to the sound of the cruise ships dropping their anchors to keep us company for a little while. They appeared so close I swore I could touch them - but today they're nowhere to be found.

I remember those strong, mighty trees and the way they gently shaded us during the hottest days of summer. I thought they would stand there forever, yet today, the only thing left of them is their severed trunk.

As I try clinging to more memories, something brings me back.

I hear the distant chime of a dozen church bells ringing in unison. Their sound still hanging in the air like it used to, but no longer moving and inspiring me.

As my tired eyes gaze up to the sky, I see contrails replacing clouds, obnoxiously and ironically reminding me that my place is no longer here.

Oh, dear Home of my heart. I wish you didn't have to be the only witness to my demise. Though you never asked for anything in return, I still wish I could've given you something more than my constantly broken presence. I wish I could've cared for you the way you cared for me, and I wish I could've kept you close for the rest of my days. You managed to keep me breathing while no one else could and for that I'll be forever thankful.

Now that this unfair life calls for us to separate, I wonder wether I'll be seeing you again. Wether I'll be able to use these walls of yours as a refuge where to reboot this tragic narrative and create painless, happy moments with my family, instead.

Who knows if one day, the color of the sea will go back to filling with wonder the eyes of the child I was. If one day, that hue of blue that I used to paint over my sorrow will be finally used for painting a canvas of love.

And who knows if one day, I'll be free to lean out those rusty railings of yours again. Stretching my arms, pretending to fly, overlooking the world below - all without hearing that incessant voice inside, reminding me that the time to leave has finally come for me too.

I dread the day when I'll have to miss you longer than I'll have known you and I'll naively keep on dreaming that it never comes, until the very end of my fleeting existence.

[cliffs-of-remembrance]

What will I have left of you? - 01/02/24

I sometimes wonder wether we’ll get another chance at life, Nonna. One that doesn’t grow mold around us, diseases our love and makes our bones brittle. When in this life, hope is depleted and my mouth becomes filled with the bitter realisation that things are never going to change, I wonder whether I’ll be seeing you ageing gracefully and happy in the next one. Whether I’ll be hearing excitement in your voice when I call you to tell you I’ll visit soon. Whether I’ll be appreciating you taking sides with me against the world. Whether I’ll be feeling the warmth of an unconditional embrace, powerful enough to transcend the hate that surrounded your life, typical of the kind of grandma you were always supposed to be for me. Whether I’ll be knowing that the roof over your head and the walls surrounding your frail figure are some gentle ones. Whether I’ll be hearing you say "I love you” to the man you once laid besides. Whether I’ll be holding your hands no longer cold and tired. I hope in the next one, the image of your broken and neglected figure won’t be the only thing I’ll have left of you. I hope you’ll be there Nonna. Amongst the hydrangeas you so dearly loved, I’ll be there too.

[cliffs-of-remembrance]

Thoughts on my last hour as a 23 year old - 22/10/21

I hear the sounds of a distant place. Towns, cities, villages, somewhere on an island where time doesn’t behave the same way as it does here. (I’m here again) Every minute tirelessly goes forward as it slips through my fingers and into the flow of time. I wonder who built all of this and what is the ultimate purpose. Why was I born aware? Why were some of us gifted with a deeper understanding of the reality we are bound to wake up in for the rest of our days? Is there a way to talk to the designers? I’m already older than when I started writing this and I can’t help but wonder if somewhere in the distance, a place like the one I keep dreaming of, exists. It’s so familiar yet so unreachable. I’ve known it since matter formed yet I can’t remember how to get there. Glimpses of people smiling at me - doing everyday duties, going on about their day - flash before my eyes. Who are they? There’s a lush coastal city, way forward in time, a mountain wraps around skyscrapers as waves crash into their foundations, shiny vessels depart from a pier and into the horizon, they take people somewhere else. I can almost talk to them before their faces fade into something i’m not able to hold onto. I wonder if my brother is there too, along with my grandparents, my friends and all the ones that have briefly entered my life before leaving. I hope they can feel me writing, I hope my mind can transcend the space and time that divides us. Why are they doing this to us? I wonder if it’s a test. In my final thirty minutes as the 23 year old me I feel the winds of time blowing stronger and stronger, ripping my cells apart, sweeping the youth off of my face and my bones. Why is it so incomprehensible yet so beautiful? I see stairs, going up the mountain, each step is illuminated and I feel the warmth of the sun still clinging to the terra-cotta, I can smell it too. I see stars but they’re not familiar anymore, and I see a home. It’s my home and it overlooks a flooded world. It seems like not everyone ends up there but somehow I did. I promise to myself I will try and break through these barriers should I ever remember who I was. I will never be 23 again, or will I? These people, these places, these sounds, these smells, tell me there is a place, beyond the veil, where time isn’t dictating our existence. A place where our memories are stored and frozen, alive, accessible at any time and safe from the brutal flow of time. Eternal, beyond comprehension. I’ll find them there. 

[cliffs-of-remembrance]

25 going on 26 - 22/10/23

I’m watching the sun as it slowly takes its last dip into the sea, the last sunset my 25 year old me will ever see. The last photons to hit my wrinkle-less face. A quarter of a century complete and yet still I ponder, unsure of where I’m going. Still looking at that endless horizon of blue wondering what will be next, If I’ll have the strength to withstand it or if it’ll be worth it at all. It’s strange and scary to think that starting from tomorrow, in less than 25 years I will be 50. It really makes me wonder, where did all the time go? It seems like yesterday when my mom sang my name from the top of the stairwell whenever I'd come home from school. I was 6, it was always spring and I was ignorant and happy. People tell me I should move on and leave the past behind, and though I’m certainly trying, It still feels like a sin to let go of all that was, when memories are the only thing I have left of it. All tangible proof lost, forgotten, trampled by the unforgiving passing of time. How do I cope with the though of every second lived, being a second that takes me further and further away from the child I was? From the people I loved despite the abuse? From the house I so dearly called home? I never got the chance to grow out of it and I still haven’t got the hang out of being an adult. I feel like I desperately need more time but even the sun won’t listen as I now see him disappearing behind the horizon. It’s evident that even he, has far better things to do than to hang around and wait for me. I guess someday I’ll figure this life out on my own but when exactly, I’ll never know.